


Eternal Return

by firbolging



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Loose Interpretation of Canon Time, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firbolging/pseuds/firbolging
Summary: The bare walls of Caleb’s bedroom bothered Jester for days. For a man who painted the air with lovingly imagined pictures, it made no sense to her that he had not extended that creativity to his own space. The only reasoning which she could conceive of was that he had simply run out of steam. Too much care had been given to the rest of them that he had none left for himself. It made sense in that respect, she supposed. It was so unbelievably Caleb to do that. To give so much. But that did not mean she had to let it be.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 31
Kudos: 108





	Eternal Return

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to @oftennot for being my beautiful beta once more!
> 
> have something unapologetically fluffy for the holidays <3

The bare walls of Caleb’s bedroom bothered Jester for days. For a man who painted the air with lovingly imagined pictures, it made no sense to her that he had not extended that creativity to his own space. The only reasoning which she could conceive of was that he had simply run out of steam. Too much care had been given to the rest of them that he had none left for himself. It made sense in that respect, she supposed. It was so unbelievably Caleb to do that. To give so much. But that did not mean she had to let it be.

Her first instinct was to design a dancing cat mural. It grew from a sketch she had begun the night he had read her the story. She wanted to elaborate on the illustrations – she wanted to make one of the cats blue. When a double spread of her sketchbook was covered in cats, she held it away from her face to study. With an irritated huff, she decided it was too obvious. She turned the page a little too aggressively and crumpled the bottom corner. The new sprawling blankness did not nudge her towards inspiration as she had hoped. After tapping her pencil against the book for a good few minutes, she gave up and went to sleep.

The following day, she decided upon attempting something more regal. To evoke the kind of oil painting that very serious and fancy people had of themselves in their dark wood offices. It took a few different attempts before she settled on a pose – Caleb with his elbow on the mantle of a fireplace, Frumpkin sitting upright on his other shoulder. It took another day to perfect the colours. Particularly the blue of his eyes. In a sea of orange and brown, they ought to pierce the soul. But she could not get the colour quite right. Could not capture the moments when he raises his head and stares into the very heart of her. Well, maybe Caleb could stare in a mirror when he next conjured up the tower.

It did not take long for her to come to the conclusion that Caleb would hate to have a painting of his own likeness on his bedroom wall. He was not a proud man, let alone a vain one. So maybe he’d prefer a picture of his friends. Or Frumpkin’s every iteration. Or a sky full of starlight. Where each constellation would have its own meaning. But she did not know the constellations as they were. Not the way she was sure Caleb would. She wondered, as she began to make connections between her imagined star systems, if he would mind. She found it difficult to believe that he would.

A double page spread soon proved insufficient. She tore out pages from the back and began to paste them to the bottom of her original sketch, eventually spreading out tenfold. By the time she was done it was well past midnight. Her bleary eyes took in the finished piece with satisfaction before she climbed onto her bed and passed out fully clothed.

When morning came, there were more important things to worry about than interior design, so she packed her things away and joined her friends on their adventure. She had half forgotten her night’s work until they retired to Caleb’s tower once more – caked in blood, sweat, and dirt.

By the time she floated up to Caleb’s room and knocked on his door, he was washed and dressed for bed.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Were you going to sleep?”

“Not yet.”

She softened beneath his reassuring smile. When he did not say anything else, she prompted, “Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Her eyes immediately caught on the bare walls and she clutched her sketchbook tighter against her chest. Caleb closed the door behind them and gestured to the couch. They settled on opposite sides, a palpable tension that had not existed the last time keeping them apart. She could not name the change, but she chalked it up to her own nerves.

“I wanted to show you something,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. It’s a gift. Sort of. If you want it.”

A small crease formed between his brows, but his smile remained. By way of explanation, she shifted a little closer to him and began flicking through the pages of her book.

“Is that me?” he asked.

She had not meant to show him the piece she had done of him looking all regal and imposing. Her cheeks flushed under his curiosity.

“Oh, yeah. That was just a first draft though.”

“It’s very good.”

She glanced to the side and saw he was giving the piece great attention. Perhaps he would prefer this one?

“Although,” he continued, “I do not believe my eyes are quite that blue.”

“No, they are.” Those same blue eyes flickered upwards, not quite meeting her gaze. Her breath caught in her chest. “Your eyes are very striking. They were the second thing I noticed about you.”

“The first being the smell, ja?”

“Of course.”

His smile quirked as he let out a small snort of laughter. She laughed with him and settled into her seat a little further.

“But this is not what you wanted to show me?” he said.

“No. I thought you probably wouldn’t want a big picture of yourself on your wall.”

“My wall?”

“Yeah. You said that you didn’t have much time left to plan out your own room, so I came up with something to brighten up your bare walls.”

He froze and she felt her embarrassment creep up again.

“You don’t have to use it,” she added quickly. “If you, like, really love the boring room.”

That got another snort from him and she felt confident enough to turn the page and begin to unfurl the night’s sky. She did not look down, though, at the picture itself. Her focus was solely on Caleb – his profile and its every twitch which might reveal his heart. Whatever his expression was, however, she could not decipher it.

He swallowed hard and asked, voice thin, “Is this the one?”

“Yes. If you want it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

She beamed, leaning over to look with him.

“It’s not completely accurate,” she said. “But it’s more interesting this way, I think.”

“I am already looking for the hidden dick.”

“I hid it really well.”

“I can see other objects though. A unicorn constellation? A… is that Veth’s flask?”

“Yeah!”

“You did not need to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

They stared in silent tandem for a minute or two. Then, Caleb said, “You have shown your bias.”

“For what?”

“Ruidus. I have never seen it this bright.”

“Well, you’re not very good at seeing bright things, Caleb. First there’s your eyes and now there’s a moon.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you see things a little brighter than others do.”

“I think if either of us has weird eyes it’s you. You don’t even have a favourite colour.”

“I appreciate them all equally.”

“It’s weird, Caleb. You should at least have, like, a top three.”

He gave a thoughtful nod of his head but said nothing further.

“I was thinking,” she pressed on, “That you’re good at remembering things, right? So if you stare at this really hard then the next time you conjure the tower you can just pop this on your wall.”

“I could. I could do that.”

“If you wanted to.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s not a gift for me. It’s for you. You should want it.”

“Alright, then I want it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They fell into another smiling silence until Caleb asked, “Should I try to memorise it now?”

“No, I can tear it out for you. It’s yours, you know.”

“I don’t want you to ruin your book,” he began, but she was already ripping.

As she passed the piece to him, their hands lingered for a moment.

“Thank you, Jester,” he said, softly and sincerely.

Her smile widened so much that she felt the ache in her cheeks as she drifted off to sleep that night.

* * *

Caleb sat up for a long time once Jester had left. He had intended to study runes, but he found his eyes and fingers running over the shapes she had made for him. It was important to remember it in its entirety. He did not want to diminish the quality of her art with his uncultured gaze. More than that, every second he spent staring cracked his heart open exquisitely. The sweetest kind of suffering.

He dreamed of unending skies, daunting as consuming. Upon waking, he had already decided that he could not let this gesture rest. He must offer her something in return. Something more than simply reading her a story from his own childhood. She had the book to peruse while the tower stood, but she could not read it without assistance. Nor could she take it away with her.

With a sigh, he pulled out some of his best parchment and ink. It would not be a book, but it was the best he had to offer.

Over the next few days, every one of his private moments was spent in translation. He kept his handwriting as neat as possible, not wanting Jester to strain over his chicken scratches. He had to appreciate how much of the original charm remained in common and chuckled softly when he stumbled upon the accidental rhyme.

When he had finished, he looked over his parchment to check the legibility. It was neat enough, but not quite right. Though what was wrong, he could not put his finger on. Looking between the original and the translation, he worried his lower lip in concentration. Then it hit him. There were no pictures. He was no artist. He could make a decent attempt at copying the original illustrations, but they would come out looking lifeless.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”

He took out more parchment and started the translation from the beginning. This time he left space for Jester to add her own interpretations. She would like that, he thought. To have the option anyway. If she had no interest, then there was no harm done.

The following night, he took out his copper wire and, in the direction of Jester’s room, he whispered, “Hi. I have something to give you.”

“For me?” her joyful voice chirped back.

He whispered into his wire again, “Are you free?”

Her voice did not come back this time, and he quickly resigned himself to her not having the time at that moment. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a pressing issue. Then there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he called.

Jester burst in, her excitement bubbling. He suddenly wished he had played down the surprise. He did not want her to be disappointed in receiving what was essentially the same story he had given her only a week before.

He was about to say something that might manage those expectations, but she let out a soft gasp before he could.

“You used my picture,” she said, wandering towards the wall.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course, I did.”

She ran her fingers along the constellations. The image spread across the majority of his back wall, stopping only when it met his wardrobe. In studying her drawing, he had found no less than twenty constellations, none of which he knew to exist in the real sky. There were symbols for each one of their friends – a captain tusktooth for Fjord, a cup of tea for Caduceus, and so on. The sibling moons took centre stage with Ruidus shining brighter in spite of its small stature.

“I hope it’s a good likeness,” he said.

“It’s beautiful. I think it’s better than my original.”

“That is not possible.”

“Oh! You got the dick!”

“It took me a while, but I found it eventually.”

“So,” she said, spinning to face him. “What do you have for me?”

“Oh. It’s not much.”

“That’s okay.”

He fumbled through the papers on his desk as though he did not know exactly where he had left her gift. It gave him a minute to collect himself.

“Here,” he said finally. “Found it.”

Jester appeared at his shoulder at once, eyes scanning the first page.

“It’s the Cat Prince!” she cooed. “In common? For me?”

“I thought you might like to read it yourself.”

“I would. I was thinking about rereading it the other night, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, now you can read it whenever you want,” he said, holding the parchment for her to take. “And it won’t disappear with the tower so…”

“It’s wonderful, Caleb.” She smiled down and shook her head. “I’m going to read it tonight before I go to sleep.”

“I also thought it was a shame for you to not have any pictures in this copy, so I left so space for you to add them. If you want to.”

“You did?”

She flicked through the pages, seeing every blank square, smiling harder all the while. Then, very suddenly, she let out a frustrated groan.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It’s just… now I have to get you something else!”

“You don’t.”

“I do!”

“This was a thank you for brightening up my room.”

“But that was a thank you for reading me this in the first place.”

“That was nothing. Really.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Caleb, and it’s not just that. It’s-” her voice warbled, and he felt a rising panic. “You’ve given me so much. I want you to know how grateful I am.”

“I’ve not given you any less than you deserve.”

“Well, neither have I.”

They were at a stalemate, staring one another down against the backdrop of Jester’s night sky as she clutched his translation to her chest.

Eventually, she said, “I should probably get started on illustrating.”

“If you do, I would love to see the results.”

“Don’t worry.” A wicked grin spread across her face. “You will see some super cool results.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t hinting at giving me something else, are you?”

“Absolutely not!” she cried, her grin unwavering.

He narrowed his eyes further and she, in response, took an index finger to tap against the side of her nose. He mirrored her.

“Goodnight, Caleb,” she said.

“Goodnight, Jester.”

He knew better than to believe she would not come bearing further gifts. He would have to consider what he should give her in return. There was still that pearl, he reminded himself. He had intended to fashion it into a ring.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please kudos/comment if you enjoyed


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